


War prize

by Sarah_bell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Instincts, As should be abundantly clear this is rough stuff people, Begging, Biting, Choking, Claiming, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Dubcon Kissing, F/M, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, I'm not any kind of dom/sub expert this is all wishful thinking and fantasizing for me, King Robb, King's Landing, Loss of Virginity, Marking, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Submission, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_bell/pseuds/Sarah_bell
Summary: Robb Stark wins all his battles and the war, and comes to King's Landing as a conqueror to claim Myrcella Baratheon as his bride. Myrcella has lived in King's Landing all her life, and knows that Robb stole victory from her family. Her mother makes her promise not to show Robb any pleasure in their marital bed. But when Robb awakens dark desires in Myrcella on their wedding night, she finds it's a promise that's hard to keep.





	War prize

**Author's Note:**

> ***PLEASE HEED THE TAGS!***  
> This is rough, non-consensual sex, and especially because it's the first time I've written for this pairing, please, please, steer clear if you are not ok with either of these characters engaging in that! 
> 
> Robb's a conquering hero here, and his crowning victory is going to be forcing Myrcella to enjoy rough sex. If you're into that - read on! If not, turn back now!

Myrcella was a sweet girl, it was true, but she had some of her mother’s fire in her as well. She identified closely with her mother, and thought of herself as a lion, not a stag. After all, King Robert was dead.

As the war went on, she heard rumors of what Robb Stark had done to the Lannister armies, how he won battle after battle.

When the war was over, and Robb Stark had won, he declared himself King. That was to be expected. What stunned Myrcella was the contents of the scroll that arrived a few days later.

A marriage proposal.

For her hand.

She was to be Robb Stark’s wife.

“I won’t, mother, I can’t-“

Cersei sighed, and picked up her glass of wine. “You will. You have no choice. We have no choice.” A small, cruel smile curved at the corner of her lip. “That doesn’t mean, my dear, that you have to please him.”

“But-“

Cersei swept out of her chair, drawing Myrcella with her to the large leaded glass window overlooking King’s Landing.

“War victories are temporary. The Lannisters will regain their strength. Marry this...boy.” Cersei looked so angry Myrcella thought her mother might spit, but she only grimaced. “Give him no pleasure in your marriage bed.”

Myrcella looked out into the streets. The city was quiet in the aftermath of the war.

“But I must lay with him, mustn’t I?”

Cersei grasped her chin. “Yes, dear girl. But a woman’s weapon is between her legs, and you need not give him any satisfaction from the act. Show him who lions are. Yes, he’ll fuck you.” Myrcella felt a tremor in her stomach. “But when you are unresponsive, unfeeling – he’ll lose interest.” Cersei’s eyes gleamed. “He’ll think himself a failure as a man. It’s a small punishment for what the Starks have done to our family. But I trust you to carry it out.”

“I will, mother.”

Cersei looked at her for a long time, then nodded. “Good. He’ll marry you here, at King’s Landing. At least he’ll have to rule from the Iron Throne, rather than going back to that frozen wasteland of the North the Starks love so much.” She gave her daughter a sly grin. “And how can a wolf rule in the lion’s den, dear girl?”

***

Myrcella wore a long, flowing gown of yellow, cinched at the waist, when she first met Robb Stark in the throne room. She held her head high when he turned to look at her.

It took all of her courtly training not to let her knees buckle. She’d expected a green, proud boy, fresh off of victories he never should have won. She hadn’t expected a strong, imposing man, as fierce as the direwolf that was his sigil. His blue eyes were friendly, at first, but Myrcella saw the hint of something wilder underneath, and the heat that coursed through her veins frightened her. She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to Robb Stark. So why did she tremble when he kissed the back of her hand?

“My Queen. I look forward to our wedding night.”

 _There’s a wolf inside him_ , she thought. It unsettled her, made her uneasy.

She had difficulty falling asleep the week before their wedding. Her mother had taught her to steel herself for the bedding by picturing Robb above her.

“Make yourself indifferent to his image, dear child. Practice. That way you’ll feel nothing at all.”

Except she wasn’t sure it was working. She tried to be cold as ice, as unbreakable as a lion. But when she imagined his blue eyes, something fluttered in her chest. She gave up the exercise, hoping for the best. She was strong. She knew how to be strong. She’d emerge victorious when he bedded her.

***

She felt no small amount of pride when Robb seemed genuinely struck by her beauty on the day of their wedding. The red and gold embroidery on her gown felt like a kind of battle armor of its own. She was pleased to see Robb lick his lips reflexively as they said their vows. His eyes kept trailing down to her cleavage.

It would hurt him, she thought, when she closed herself off, and she was glad of it.

The vows and the ceremony passed quickly in a blur of bright colors and rich foods. Robb was sweet, and charming, dancing with each of the ladies in turn. He offered her the best morsels from each dish, which she accepted with flawless courtesy. 

The bedding ceremony that closed the celebration was subdued, but effective. She and Robb finally ended up in their chambers alone. She was only in her shift, and he was bare-chested. She could see the outline of his cock under the fabric of his breeches.

She expected Robb to tell her to take off her gown, or to walk her backward to the bed. But he only drank in the sight of her. There was something unsettling about his blue eyes, some feral glint in them. It threw her off balance, made her skin hot and itchy. When he made no move, she went and sat on the bed, turned away from him.

She felt the mattress dip under his weight as he sat next to her. He pulled her tight to his chest, his arm like a band of iron around her waist. He grasped her throat, and she could feel the ring on his finger digging into her skin. His stubble grazed her cheek, and the roughness of it made her gasp. He started tracing her ear with his lips.

“You married a wolf, did you know that?” His voice was a low, pleasant whisper, but the grip he had on her was possessive. She tried to wriggle free, but he only gripped her tighter.

“I suppose you did, given what you’ve heard of how I became King. How I bested Jaime Lannister. How I bested your father’s men.”

“You never–“ She tried to defend her family’s honor but he simply removed his hand from her throat and clapped it over her mouth.

“Hush, Myrcella. My wife. My prize. My queen.” Without giving her a chance to breathe or break free, he captured her mouth in a brutal kiss, moving his fingers away only to invade her mouth with his tongue.  She tried to pull her head back but he held her firmly in place, taking what he wanted, kissing her rough and deep. These were far from the sweet, gentle kisses she’d dreamed of as a girl.

And they made her body ache with longing. When he bit her lower lip, she whined high in her throat. She felt a trickle of wetness down her leg, underneath her light shift.  She was pushing him away feebly, and she hated herself for not fighting harder. He was well-muscled in the firelight. He had a lean, hard soldier’s body, this man who’d spent months on the battlefield.

He broke away, tipping her head back, nipping at her throat, and she couldn’t help it, she whined again.

He chuckled. “There it is, how I’ve imagined this, the pretty little noises you’d make when I’d finally won my kingdom. When I’d come to the lion’s den to take the Lannister’s lovely daughter from them.”

 _No pleasure. You must give him no pleasure in the marriage bed_.

She silenced herself, with a significant effort. She closed her eyes to regain her composure, then looked at him haughtily. “I don’t want you. I don’t want a wolf in my bed.“

“Oh come now, Myrcella, we both know that’s not true.” He drew his thumb over her lip, where he’d bitten her moments before, and the contrast of the soft, light touch where his teeth had been had her moaning quietly.

“Look at how you shudder for me. A golden lioness who needs a wolf. I hear you, Myrcella. The whines and moans that escape you, no matter how hard you try.” He hummed approvingly. “You want this.”

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, ignoring the way her blood was singing in her veins.

“No. I don’t want you. Stop!” She tried to slap him, anything to regain control.

He caught her hand easily. He held both of hers firmly, a wolfish grin on his face.

“I like to see you fight, Myrcella. I’d hoped you would.”

She kicked him, but he dodged and shoved her against the wooden bedpost. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as she squirmed.

“Yes, gods, yes, struggle for me.” His voice was darker, and something in her thrilled at it.

He sounded ragged now, rough. “Fight me, Myrcella. Tell me no. It’ll just make the moment when you give in all the sweeter.” He caught her mouth again, pulling her hands up above her head, pinning her wrists to the bedpost.

She felt the heat of the fireplace at her back, and with Robb pressed against here she could feel his hard cock against her belly. She was dripping between her legs now, and she desperately wanted to rub them together. His kiss was as aggressive as before. She felt her head drop back against the wood as he sucked on her tongue. It took everything she had not to whine for him again. His skin smelled of woods, and pine, and something else, something that unraveled her.

Robb kept her pinned to the bedpost with one hand and pinched her nipples, first one and then the other, until they were stiff under the light fabric of her shift. When he sucked on one, over the fabric, she bit her lip, trying to twist away. Then he replaced his mouth with his teeth, biting her nipple gently, and she had to whimper, she had to, the flash of pleasure was too much.

Robb sucked blooms on her teats and neck. He came back up for air and she expected him to kiss her again, yearned for it, damn him. But instead he pushed her down onto the bearskin rug in front of the fire, following her, covering her body with his.

She felt his hot breath on her neck. “I’m going to fuck you now, Myrcella. I’m not going to make love to you. That’s not what conquerors do. I’m going to take your maidenhead, and make you mine.” His voice dropped an octave on _mine_.

 _Yes_ , she almost said, _please_ , but she bit it back. She couldn’t hide the shiver that went through her, or the tiny arch of her spine.

Robb ran his hand through her hair gently, scenting it, letting the waves fall between his fingers.

“You should see the picture you make for me, Myrcella, with your golden hair down around your shoulders. So easy, for me to get you where I want you.” He tugged on a handful of hair, forcing her to tilt her head up for him as he started to – _mount_ her, gods, there was no other word for it, he was going to take her like an animal on her wedding night, and some dark part of her _needed_ it.

He pushed her shift over her hips, and she was bare for him. She knew there was no hiding it, he’d see how wet she was, and she took some satisfaction in the sharp intake of breath she heard as he laid eyes on her cunt.

“Fuck, look at you.” He dazed tone of his voice made her realize she had a small window of opportunity.

As he was undoing his drawstring she scrambled up off the rug and ran, blindly, until she felt her cheek against the stone of her chamber wall. Robb’s delighted laughter filled her ear.

“A lioness to the last,” he murmured. “Good, sweet girl.” He kissed her shoulder, softly, and then tugged her hair to the side. “But the games are over now, Myrcella.” His tone was stern, and she wondered if this was the voice his men heard when he led them. She was flushed and helpless. She could feel his hard cock against her ass.

He slipped his hand under her shift and rubbed the soft swell of her belly. She almost spread her legs for him.

Robb growled. “Here, lovely girl, here, this is where I’ll put a babe in you tonight.” He dipped two blunt fingers into her cunt. He started pumping his fingers in and out, in a steady rhythm she could feel down to her toes, one that had her straining for more.  She did spread her legs for him then, gods, why couldn’t she stop?

“So ready, so eager, you like the fight too, don’t you, Myrcella? Especially when you know I’ll win.” His lips curved as he traced her ear again. “You’re going to peak so prettily for me tonight when I spill inside your cunt, sweet girl, and then you’ll give me a son.”

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She needed this, curse him, but he wouldn’t hear the words from her. She hadn’t been able to control her body’s response so far. But she wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t peak. She could keep that much of her promise to her mother, at least.

“Back on your hands and knees for me, lioness. I’m not fucking you like this. I saw you arch into my hand when you were in front of the fire a minute ago. That’s how I want you, beautiful girl, and it’s what you want too.” He dragged her back to the rug. The fur was soft under her knees.

“Submit, Myrcella.” He was on top of her again, bunching up her shift. His strong hand pressed down on the back of her neck. “Submit to your King.”

“No.” Her voice sounded so high and needy, it might as well have been a yes.

He mounted her, his cock teasing her slick folds. “You’re so wet, so fucking wet, Myrcella.” He was murmuring in her ear again, and she felt as if she was in a trance. He started to stroke her cunt. 

“You are, darling, you’re dripping for me. You crave this, your body’s begging for it, your cunt is fluttering, you’re so close–“

She was lost in the sound of his voice, and she circled her hips for him. He pushed his cock into her, just a few inches. It felt so _good_ , to be filled that way, why hadn’t mother told her how good this could be?

He hissed as he started thrusting slowly, shallowly. “Feel that, Myrcella. Feel me claim you.  You’re mine. You belong to me. Say it, now.”

She shook her head again, but she couldn’t keep herself from pushing back into him on his next thrust. He was invading her, taking her, and she needed the relief his cock would bring, the sweet release she could feel was around the corner.

He stopped moving suddenly and pulled out. His hand was back on her neck.  She mewled, desperate, feeling empty.

“Say it, Myrcella.”

She bit her lip, tried with one last bit of strength. “I won’t.” It was a thin whisper, but at least it was a denial.

Robb slid a hand around her throat, slowly, squeezing gently before letting go.

“Oh you will, Myrcella, because I’m going to fuck you hard and fast, right now, and you’ll scream for me before I’m done.”

She was on all fours underneath him. He started to pound into her. His fingers worked her cunt as he thrust all the way to the hilt, taking her maidenhead. The lance of pain only served to heighten the building crest of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.

“So close, you're almost there, that's it, give in to it-"

He was grasping her firmly by the hip, controlling their brutal rhythm. She could feel her teats bounce with each deep thrust as he fucked her in front of the fire. He growled, pulling her back into him.

"Mine, sweet girl,  _mine_ –“

She was shaking, holding on by a thread.  _A lioness doesn’t give in, not to a wolf,_ _never-_

Then he bit her shoulder, hard, and that primal bite swept her over the edge, drowning out everything else. She spasmed for him, her walls clenching, and she saw white bursts of stars as she cried out, helpless, just like he'd said she would.

“Yes, please, yes,  _yours_ , Robb, gods, don’t stop–“    

She felt him groan and slam into her as he spilled in hot, thick spurts, that final act of marking, the wolf overtaking the lion. He forced her to peak again and again that night, as he claimed his last, best war prize.


End file.
